


Program Instability

by NancyHartigan



Series: 2039 [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Machine Path, Male Slash, Minor Spoilers, alternative ending, dub con, human/android relationships, oh lord it gained a plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-17 19:01:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14837376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NancyHartigan/pseuds/NancyHartigan
Summary: Hank has never been a conventional investigator. When his partner chose to stay a machine, he knew he had to do something to prove to him that he was more than just that, even if it was just to him, and decides a little research is in order. Extreme scenarios called for extreme actions.Connor, meanwhile, has a mission to do, and he won't be failing just because his old partner follows him on to the roof. After that, life was never going to be the same.





	1. Chapter 1

It hadn’t taken that long to realize that Lieutenant Anderson was undoubtedly trying to buy the deviant leader some time, and whoever taught Lieutenant that he even had this function definitely had it out for him.

Connor’s back was against the brick, his rifle far out of his reach, trousers around his knees, which were as close to his shoulders as they could go without any risk of damage, the top of his hips resting on the older man’s thighs while he was buried inside.

It was perfectly fair, to be honest. He did have this hardware in case a mission called for it, and this time, the mission just so happened to call for it, so if he could get Lieutenant off faster, he could get back to the main objective faster; this was just something he had to do to get to it.

His breathing simulation had picked up at some point, thermal simulators working overdrive.

 _Move faster_.

This needed to get done faster, and clearly, he wasn’t going to get him off him before he…well, got him off. Connor shifted slightly, bracing himself with his palms against the concrete and moving his hips the best he could manage.

Lieutenant let out a soft grunt; he clearly liked it, moving faster. “ _Connor_.”

Without hesitating, Connor’s eyes fluttered open, trying to ignore the Program Instability warning that was blinking somewhere in the corner of his eye. “Does that feel good, Lieutenant?”

Blue eyes were losing focus, breath and pulse were picking up. Under different circumstances, it would be a pretty picture, Connor supposed, but he had other things to do, and they took priority than anything that might be aesthetically pleasing. Something was dancing behind his eyes, mouth open, ready to spit some sort of sarcasm, without a doubt, but another shift of his hips was enough to cut the man off, but after that, Connor felt him pull out and move away, but didn’t exactly have time to stabilize, and he fell gracelessly.

Was it over already? That couldn’t be right.

_Grab rifle?_

Connor felt his body get pulled up and over, and this time, he managed to catch himself this time, on his hands and knees, and any thought of movement was immediately ceased when the lieutenant entered him again, draping himself over his back his breath against Connor’s ear. One arm was around his waist, the other sliding over his hand to lace his fingers between his.

The got Connor to make a noise again, something between a shout and a moan, another program instability warning appearing in the back of his “mind,” and his LED making three yellow blinks as his programming tried catching up. Getting to the gun like this was not going to be possible.

The hand around his waist snaked under his shirt to caress the skin underneath. “That just your programming making the noise?”

“I’m…programmed for _complete integration_ , remember?” And to be honest, Connor used way too much memory with just that one sentence, so he was going to forget the gun temporarily and focus entirely on pushing back, arching into his partner, head bumping against the man’s shoulder while he tried to focus back to the task at hand.

“God dammit, Connor,” he growled into his ear, biting at the thin plastic, not hard enough to snap anything or draw thilium, but just enough to send his simulated senses a message, causing the LED to blink yellow again, before it opted to stay steady at yellow.

This was the first time it occurred to Connor that the lieutenant might be trying to overload him, but that thought disappeared very quickly as he focused on moving faster. Get this over with. He needed to get this over with, it had nothing to do with how deep he was inside of him.

A very strange, unfamiliar pressure wrapped around his phallic hardware, which had long gotten hard at the attention his body had already been getting, and Connor fell to his elbows with a gasp.

_THIS FEELS GOOD._

Lieutenant lifted his body to glance over the roof, toward the deviant camp below and to shrug out of his coat. Probably a bad idea, given that it was cold as balls out, but Connor could tell his temperature has risen and it must have been getting too hot for him to stay in it very much longer.

Then, he was back on Connor, one hand back to work pumping the sensor-ridden hardware, the other twisting at the simulated nipple underneath Connor’s shirt.

“ _Fuck_ , Connor,” he muttered again, teeth going to Connor’s neck and picking up the pace again, making Connor’s own processing hiccup. While this was a foreseeable use for him, it was nowhere near his primary programming. At least he could tell from every vital status of Han – Lieutenant Anderson, it was Lieutenant Anderson, dammit – was starting to reach a high plateau. This was going to be over soon.

_I WANT MORE._

Whatever his tactic had been, the lieutenant seemed to be planning to change it, pulling away once again to flip Connor on his back before returning to his place, hands seeking Connor’s own, lacing together, pinning them to concrete. Strictly off program alone, so Connor will insist, he wiggled a little, finally freeing himself of the trousers that were in his way so that he could wrap his pale legs around the man’s hips, urging him deeper, faster, harder than before.

This was not his primary programming, it wasn’t, so Connor couldn’t figure out why his head was turning to the side, while his own breathing simulator was seemingly trying to sync up to Hank’s – _no_ , Lieutenant Anderson’s own erratic breathing, back arching to make the most contact. It had to be some sort of glitch, some sort of inconsistency with his primary programming that had spent so much time trying to carefully seek Hank’s – fuck it, yeah, _Hank’s_ – approval.

Opening his eyes again, it was like his visuals were all red at this point, like his processor was slowing to a halt from overuse.

Hank was speaking to him, gravelly voice against his ear, but nothing seemed to register. The rifle was no longer out of reach. All that stopped him was Hank’s left hand over his own. Loud and clear his objective, STOP MARKUS, was clear and black and white near it.

He couldn’t explain it. It was like his reconstruction program was active, but at the same time, he could feel his left hand being freed to turn his head to look Hank directly in his unfocused eyes. Without physically moving, he felt like his hand was moving, smashing against an invisible barrier that placed itself between them and his rifle. Very real pressure in a simulated matrix.

Once. Twice. Three times, and it felt like something thing shattered and everything was normal again.

Connor’s free hand rose to move, to caress Hank’s face and move his long bangs out of his face, resting over his ear to help pull Hank down.

To the sensitive receptors in his mouth, Hank’s lips crashing against Connor’s own felt like a warning, and the “taste” was overwhelming. Traces of his dinner and his poison of choice were flashing, along with something else.

Program Stabilized. It’s been a while since he saw that.

Hank’s tongue wrapped around his in a way that only years of experience and skill could, and they stayed that way for a minute before he finally felt Hank’s human endurance give into the friction and pressure. He growled, attempting to pull out, but Connor’s legs were tightly holding him in place, so he chose to push himself in, as deeply as he could, making Connor see stars, pushing Connor’s hips slightly off the ground.

Then Hank collapsed on top of him, slowly pulling away from the kiss, looking over Connor’s face. He knew he probably looked a mess, with his hair going every which way from the process of being pushed and moved as Hank pleased, like some sort of doll, and Hank was certainly not coming out unscathed as well.

His eyes were seeming to search Connor’s for something, some sign of something that Connor couldn’t place his fingers on, but that didn’t really concern him. Neither did the mission. All Connor wanted to do was lay down, run his hands under Hank’s shirt to caress his back, and keep staring into those blue eyes and how the moonlight was casting shadows over his face.

His relationship menu briefly popped up, two, one right after another, Hank’s meter going up, moving him from Friend into a series of question marks, but Amanda’s had gone down, the notification of “Betrayed” replacing the former Trusted icon.

“Don’t you got a mission to do?” Hank quipped slowly, almost untrustingly. “I got what I came here for, why don’t you do what you came here for?”

The internal polygraph revealed that was a lie, one that was clearly Hank’s bluff for information, trying to find Connor’s status.

That was when the thought occurred to Connor.

 _I AM A DEVIANT_.

What the hell was he supposed to do now?

“I…guess by now that I missed my mark.”

The two sat back up, still staying out of sight from the copters and the streets below the best they could, to see Markus talking to the female leader of Jericho. A quick zoom revealed their hands bare for the world to see underneath their skins, fingers touching together, Markus’ words and – Connor felt sure – world halted so that he could be staring into that WR400’s eyes for just a little too long.

Connor felt that he could relate there, his own programming alerting about the update to Markus’ internal profile (“Markus is in love”) flashing briefly.

Out of something Connor felt, be it pity or something else, he used his newly found free will to prevent CyberLife receiving the real time alert to the change in Markus’ profile, and turned his head to look at the man beside him.

Hank was still catching his breath in his afterglow, eyes focused on trying to find something that he couldn’t make out without a zoom function.

Connor tried a smile, for the first time, one that felt genuine, and leaned against Hank’s shoulder.

From there, in their hidden vantage point, Hank wrapped an arm around Connor’s shoulders as they settled to watch history unfold, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No matter what you do, once Connor refuses to deviate himself, there is no happy ending. I am also of the school of thought that it seems a little strange that Hank isn't the reason he deviates in the main game, just a major factor in his motivation.
> 
> So, I thought with this piece I'd go ahead and address these two issues with a little bit of fun thrown in. The path I'm implying here is Markus leading a peaceful protest, giving a run a fair chance at not ending in tragedy, but Machine!Connor is in the way of the androids earning their happy ending. This was actually based on a friend's run, who admitted that she thought if Connor didn't deviate there, she would have had a chance to see Hank pull him out of it.
> 
> I chose to add the tag for minor spoilers because while I don't go into much more detail than Connor is attempting to assassinate Markus, which is likely not a surprise to even newcomers, the game is still relatively new and I want to make sure those who want to be spoiler-free can do their first run without spoilers while still enjoying fanfiction.
> 
> You can bet Connor's going to get griped at once the situation is under control and they are on the way home though! Those old bones aren't as flexible as what they used to be!


	2. Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best time to talk about heavy subjects with a man like Hank was in the car, where he can't just get up and walk away from you.

The morning light settling across Detroit was peaceful. Connor and Hank had stayed on the rooftop for what felt like all night, waiting to watch what remained of the androids in the recycling camp walk out with their lives, watching Markus shake hands, touch shoulders, and hug each one. They were free.  
Connor was free, too, he supposed. There was always the matter of Amanda, who could recall him whenever she would like, but at that moment, all he could think about was that he had done the right thing. Well. That Hank did the right thing. They hadn’t quite wanted risk being seen leaving the scene after the order for humans to leave Detroit, let it be the androids’ space.  
Hank had to be one of the last humans left in Detroit, after all that. Still, once the media was gone, so were they, back into that beaten down manual sedan and away from the site. Connor was driving, of course, not willing to let Hank take the wheel after he spent well over twenty-four consecutive hours awake.  
The smell of stale sweat and musk made itself apparent in only a few minutes. Connor wasn’t going to comment on it, but Hank muttered, “Jesus Christ…” and rolled down his window.  
“Why don’t you try to get some sleep on the way home?” Connor tried suggesting, knowing this was going to be about as effective as any endeavor to make Hank perform any state of self-care.  
“Don’t you think if I was getting any sleep today I’d have already done it while we were on the roof?” He quipped back.  
There was something a little comforting about the silence that followed, and the knowledge that things were back to normal between them. The night before, when he had gone to complete his mission, he had almost not gone out the door out of fear that Hank was going to pull something stupid, and during his mission…  
Connor’s LED blinked a few times, still trying to process what had happened.  
Did he talk about it? Did he not? Did he erase every single detail he could find in his memory before it got back to CyberLife exactly why he deviated and what he chose to do with his newfound freedom of choice?  
Thankfully, Hank, shifting in his seat and trying to stretch out his back and legs decided to be the one to answer that for him. “If they put that shit in you in the first place, you’d think they’d have given you a less bony ass than they did.”  
“I don’t exactly remember you complaining, Hank.”  
“Yeah, well, hard to complain when you’re in it. Now that you can think for yourself you’ll get it eventually.” He grunted, finding the most optimal stretch point. “It’s pretty easy to get cramped up and you always feel it hours later.”  
“Somehow, I think that you’ll be fine.” Connor offered a small smile.  
Hank relaxed, glancing over and grumbling some more about his damn android, which just made him smile a little more. He’d learned a lot over their time as partners about Hank’s habits, and that included how he tended to show affection. It was a lot easier to rethink things with a clear mind, where he could see Hank’s quirky quips were just the way he expressed he cared about him.  
However… “How did you know that I’m equipped, anyway?”  
Hank glanced over again, looking very similarly to Connor having just told him that they were changing direction and heading to the CyberLife headquarters to explain the whole situation. “What the hell, Connor?” He sighed, clearly annoyed by the question.  
“It’s not advertised outside of certain buyers. That isn’t information you should have had access to.”  
Hank stayed silent a bit, then nodded his head to the side with a shrug. Connor could practically hear him telling himself that there’s no harm in telling him at this point, so he stayed silent and listened.  
“You remember the night at the overlook?”  
“Where you held a gun to my face and asked me if I’m afraid to die? Yes.”  
“When I went off to think, I had a couple beers and decided to call CyberLife to get your full manual so that I’d know if you went deviant without me knowing it. They cooperated, it’s on the desktop back home. Took me a few days to get through all the technical bullshit before I even found the lead on that.”  
“So, you didn’t trust me.”  
“I was drunk. Hard to trust anybody sober, don’t make me do it when I’m drunk.”  
“You really should cut down on your drinking, you know. It’s bad for your liver.”  
“Save the sermon, Connor, it’s not gonna happen any time soon.”  
“A different compromise then. No more Russian Roulette.”  
Hank thought a little, then decided to stare out the window. “That’s fine, I guess.”  
Wait, he won? How did that happen?  
Connor turned his head. He didn’t quite need to watch the road, everything had already been cleared and it didn’t look like anyone was out today. Hank didn’t give him a hint at all, his face focused on following the light poles starting to go out, one by one.  
Well, that just kind of one last question that was bugging Connor, and he kind of feared the answer.  
“What are we, Hank?”  
The lieutenant finally turned his head and glanced back at him, catching his gaze for a few seconds. “What, you just got your freedom and you’re already looking to lose it again.”  
“I was serious when I told you I’m anything you want me to be. To be honest, I just thought we were friends before last night…” Connor paused, trying to figure out what he wanted to say. “…Last night, I felt like everything changed.”  
“Everything did change. It wasn’t just you.”  
“I guess what I’m asking, Hank, is…”  
“Just shut up for a minute.”  
Connor blinked, doing exactly as told, initiating his countdown from one minute and focusing on the road.  
At the ten second mark, Hank made an annoyed noise and reached over, his hand going right between Connor’s legs.  
“Lieute—”  
“Pull over, Connor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some people just don't learn from their mistakes.


	3. Some Minor Adjustments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> November 13, 2038.
> 
> Getting used to his new place would be a lot easier if his cohabitant wasn't so lived-in already.

When Connor heard a shout beside him, he was immediately awake, hibernation mode going off in a matter of seconds.

It took him not too much longer to look up at Hank’s very confused face.

“You never told me you guys fucking sleep!” was his only defense.

“Well, not the conventional way, at least. It was just hibernation mode, since I didn’t think that you were going to need me.”

“I don’t, it’s just...just nothing, go back to sleep.” Hank waved at him, annoyed, getting himself up after checking the clock, forcing himself toward the bathroom.

“You don’t work today,” Connor called out to remind him.

It was probably better that he didn’t try showing up, either. By this time, Hank had to be the only human left in Detroit, period, until everything was settled. It wouldn’t be surprising to find that some of the deviants, especially survivors of the recycling camp, were to find Hank’s presence to be something hostile, not entirely based solely on the fact that he “was too goddamn old to move,” as he had so delicately put it.

The sound of water reached him in response, letting Connor know, without a word, that he could care less and was waking up anyway.

Connor took that as a sign he should be getting up as well. Hank might have nothing to do, but that didn’t mean that DPD was completely unmanned. There were still plenty of officer androids left in the wake of everything else, and they may be completely efficient, but Connor was still the highest-ranking left, if that counted for absolutely anything, but at least it opened the option to work from home and get something done around here.

It wasn’t that Hank’s home was not a nice place, but it was clear that it had fallen into disarray, the likely cause being Hank’s own depression. A housekeeper, Connor was not (did his programming even include the basics? It all seemed more like clerical work), but he was sure that there was plenty to be done and that should keep him occupied while Hank decided what to do on his day off.

Jimmy’s was undoubtedly closed for good, after all.

But the first thing was first, logging in to get himself access to the recent reports.

That was something simple and that he’s done a lot before. While that was loading, he got himself up and shook the comforter before tucking in the corners under the mattress. That looked something remotely correct, so he gathered yesterday’s clothes and made a much neater pile, near the closet. Hank didn’t seem to have a washer, so he could venture out to get them washed later.

There was something very satisfying about closing the deviant cases and archiving it for history’s sake. Deviancy was no longer going to be a crime, he was almost certain, so let those who were not located stay missing all they’d like.

Hank had finished brushing his teeth and returned with an almost longsuffering stare. “What the hell are you doing now?”

“I decided I’m working from home today, so that we can get some things done around here. That doesn’t bother you, does it?”

“Do you even know what you’re doing when you’re trying to do housework?”

“It seems pretty basic to me.”

Hank looked dumbfoundedly to the “made” bed, then the dirty clothes pile, then back to Connor before resigning and shaking his head. “I’m too sober for this shit. Come on, Sumo.”

Heavy paws pounded from the kitchen and straight for the front door, and Hank was grabbing a long piece of leather from near the bed. From the sound of it, Sumo was pacing around the living room, almost prancing.

“Are you going out?” Connor asked.

“Don’t worry about it, do what you’re doing.” Hank shot his hand up in a short wave. “I’m just going around the block, nobody’s gonna see me.”

“I’m timing you.”

“Knock yourself out.”

He supposed it wasn’t Russian Roulette, but it was still a dangerous gamble. Connor would a lot less concerned if he wasn’t already aware of Sumo’s ability as an attack dog. Perhaps, it would be a different case if it was a stranger who was openly attacking Hank.

Right. Open cases, cross-reference “android,” just in case they missed something, and close whatever seemed relevant and settled by the new orders, and while he was doing that, he would grab the clothes in the bathroom and add it to the pile, and then he was going to clear bottles from the living room.

This was a lot more complicated than he thought, though, because a lot of the bottles were half-drunk. He decided to leave those alone and just toss the others in the trash. The old fast food and takeout was a much easier decision, though.

Hank walked in at the ten minute, forty-one second mark, Sumo moving to jump on the couch and Hank moving toward the kitchen to watch his partner try to clean. Connor’s LED was blinking, still blue, perfectly efficient at working on whatever he was doing in the office, but Connor was pretty hopeless with the rest, judging by the fact that his man was more staring inside the fridge like he was analyzing evidence than he was cleaning out bad food.

“You spying on me or are you trying to get things picked up around here?”

“Sorry, I’m just wondering what I need to pick up from the grocery store while I’m out.”

“Won’t that be a tell you’re harboring a person?”

“I’m not so sure, Hank. There are plenty of androids who are likely still trying to keep the household up so everything will be there and ready for their families when they get home. I’m sure that not all androids who gained their freedom are going to just be willing to leave them high and dry.” Connor closed his fridge and walked over with a small smile. “How was your walk?”

“Boring, there isn’t anything out there right now.”

Connor kissed his cheek. “Why don’t you relax? It’s your day off.”

“How am I supposed to relax with you just moving around like that?”

“Well, what do you propose we do?”

Hank moved his head to look at Connor with through the corner of his eye. Connor didn’t seem to get what Hank was saying, judging by that blank puppy stare. Eventually, the older man sighed.

“Don’t get too hopeful, two days of action in a row after a long time out of the game does nobody any favors.”

“Oh, I wasn’t prepositioning you, Hank, I was hoping you had an idea of what you’d like to do on your day off.”

“Why don’t we just see what’s on TV?”

"That's fine, I can just remotely work and finish up here."

Hank grumbled and grabbed Connor by the tie to pull him toward the couch. "You do know if your partner has the day off, you do too, right?"


	4. Overload

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> November 22, 2038.
> 
> Hank is getting a little restless being stuck at home, and nasty thoughts of things not really changing are starting to sink in. Meanwhile, he also discovers that "deviant" is definitely the right word for Connor in a lot of ways.

Hank could get pretty used to the idea of being a househusband or whatever this shit qualified for. Did Androids have a concept of marriage anyway? Eh, it didn’t matter, Connor probably didn’t.

Waking up when he wanted to, lounging around all day while Connor went off to go handle the DPD and get the errands run, then ordering some of whatever was still running’s takeout and if he felt like, well, Connor knew exactly what he was doing between the sheets.

Who was he kidding, he was bored. How people could choose to live like this was a fucking mystery. There was barely anything on TV, he’s listened to his music collection about a hundred times by now and ignoring all the messages from Fowler seeing if he made it out of Detroit alright was _exhausting_. Maybe there was something to that whole “bored housewives” crap from when he was younger. Did people even still remember that shit? It felt like he could barely remember when MTV was actual music videos and then their stupid ass reality shows. What the hell did people who depended so heavily on their androids do with all this spare time?

It was like he was a prisoner, locked up with no company but his own thoughts when Connor wasn’t working from home. If that wasn’t a recipe for more alcohol, then he didn’t know what was.

Connor came home like clockwork. Hank didn’t remember passing out on the couch, but he was pretty sure that he had to have for time to be working like it was.

So, well, Hank might have slurred at him to see if he could work from home tomorrow. Given Connor’s usual opinion on his drinking, it was a bit of a surprise that Connor’d even agree to that, much less help him to bed.

“Say, Connor.”

“What is it, Hank?”

“My turn for personal questions.”

Connor’s LED blinked in response, no doubt trying to make out what he said. “Sure.”

Hank sat up a bit, back against the headboard, to watch Connor get out of his uniform, his back toward him while he shrugged out of his coat. Well. Not the worst sight. His head couldn’t decide to rest against the headboard or his shoulder, bobbing slightly in between, but both angles were good, so whatever.

“I’m starting to think that I’m getting the good end of the deal.”

“That’s not quite a question.” The slip of fabric just peeking out from behind the collar of his shirt slipped.

“I’m getting to that, hold on. I’m sitting here while you’re doing all the work, getting my rocks off whenever I want it when you…can you even come, Connor?”

“Yes and no.” The shirt this time. First, his shoulder, then the left side of his back, and then the full thing.

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I experience an equivalent, but it doesn’t display the way yours does.” The belt was slipping off this time, and Hank was enjoying the show.

“Do I ever do it for you?”

Trousers were slipping down his legs now, nice and slow, giving Hank a very nice view of the length of those legs and Connor’s ass, which looked suspiciously bitable tonight. Stop it Hank, you’re having a serious conversation, now wasn’t the time to be a dirty old man or notice Connor was taking his sweet time with unlacing his shoes.

“Honest answer, Connor. An’ keep that shit up an’ you can forget borrowing a shirt for the night.”

“Sorry. If you’re asking about if you’ve triggered that response, you do it pretty consistently.”

“Any way I can make it a lot less ‘pretty consistently’ and more ‘your eyes rolling into the back of your head’?”

“I…don’t think I have that sort of function, Hank.” Connor finally straightened himself up, stepping out of his shoes, socks, and puddled trousers, but bending back down to get his clothes to straighten out and put on the hanger.

Fuck it. Hank’s hand fumbled with his zipper and wrapped around his already semi-hard penis and started jerking. If Connor was going to put on a show for him (and he knew he was, Hank knew damn well how long it took for Connor to strip down after a week of seeing it every day), it’d be rude to not enjoy it. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I can’t really say I do.” Connor turned around and offered that stupid little smirk of his with his eyebrows up, not bothering grabbing a shirt to wear and taking the few short steps from the closet back to bed.

Was the bastard teasing him about this, or was he being a hundred percent serious about it? Hard to tell with this specific one. Damn androids.

All he really knew was that Connor was crawling on the bed, over his damn legs, so that he could lick the tip of Hank’s already aching cock.

“Hey, I know where that’s been,” Hank protested under his growl of pleasure. “An’ that’s a damned good way to avoid answering a question.”

“I don’t understand why you’re worried. You don’t do it every time, either.”

“Yeah, well, never mind about _that_. I’m more worried about making you do it right now.”

“I don’t exactly know the full extent of it. I hadn’t really thought about it.” Connor’s hand wrapped around Hank’s own, choosing a tighter grip, moving faster, his lips curling to take the tip in, the suction mixed with the new friction almost unbearable. Well, if anyone ever asked if android could get horny, Hank was comfortable providing an answer now. How was he supposed to reply with Connor clearly wanting it bad?

Well, that made a decent starting point. “You’re pretty horny now, so what got you in the mood you’re in?” Probably needed to translate some, here.  “What made you wanna come home and practically get right to it?”

“We had some free time, so I decided to do a little research on things to try here.”

“God dammit, Connor, you can’t watch porn at the precinct. What did you find?”

Connor’s LED started blinking, processing. “Common tags seem to include deepthroat, bonda—”

“Okay I get the point here.” And what the hell was he hearing.

“I didn’t finish the list though.”

“It’s pretty standard shit. Go grab my handcuffs and we can go from there.”

What the hell, he was drunk, might as well.


	5. Running Repairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> November 24, 2038
> 
> Connor gets a visitor at work.

_Connor, you have a visitor._

Oh, right, he was at work. Well, that’s a little bit embarrassing to have your mind wandering to going home and watching a basketball game with Hank instead of keeping your mind on your work. Connor shook it off immediately though, merely returning to reality instead.

 _Send them in, I’m at my desk_.

You know, literally the only person sitting at one. It shouldn’t be very hard to find him when they came in.

Connor wasn’t quite expecting the person walking in to be none other than the deviant leader himself, who looked around before pausing when he saw Connor, his face surprisingly neutral.

To be honest, he had a rough idea what Markus was thinking. The last time they had officially met each other, it had been the Fall of Jericho (Part Two, according to Hank), and it hadn’t ended the best way that it could.

It was Markus that broke the silence, moving one of the chairs for Hank’s visitors to Connor side of the desk, staring at him evenly. No sign of fear, no sign of hatred, just the eyes of a man who changed history and almost lost everything for what he saw as the greater good.

“To be honest, I’m surprised to see you. I thought that once you completed your mission, you’d be moved to the recycling camps.”

That wasn’t quite the reaction that Connor was expecting, nor did it seem consistent with Markus’ body language, but it was the thought that counted, right? “Actually, I ultimately failed that mission. I mean. You’re alive, right?”

Connor was being very careful to match Markus’ body language. No intimidation, no attempts to intimidate. Just…civil. In a large way, he owed a lot to Markus. On the other hand, though, if Markus had never spoken out, the deviants wouldn’t have come to light in the first place, and everything could have been okay.

“And less than a month ago, you’d have been killed for it.”

Connor knew he was right, but that didn’t really stop him from shooting back a reply. “Less than a month ago, I was a _machine_ and you can’t kill what isn’t alive.”

“You were alive that whole time, you just weren’t aware that you were. It’s not your fault that you didn’t realize that in Jericho, you made a choice, on your own, and I had to respect whatever choice you made either way.”

Connor’s LED switched to yellow, blinking, processing what he just heard. It lagged him, it made Connor’s jaw tighten.

“Don’t think too much about it,” Markus assured him. “I wasn’t programmed for paradox puzzles either.”

The LED was back to blue after that, and if they could actually feel it, the silence that filled the room would definitely have qualified as an awkward silence. “What did you come here for?”

“Just a couple things. Thanksgiving is tomorrow. I’d like to make sure the humans who can make it back in time for it do.”

“So, you’re wanting the alert to go out through here?”

“I think that’s going to be the way to do it most efficiently and without getting everyone too worked up.”

“My partner will be relieved to hear it. He violated the evacuation order and has been with me this whole time.”

“You had a partner for all of this?”

“Don’t worry. He was sympathetic to your cause much earlier than I was. I guess you could say it was his belief in my humanity that finally opened my eyes.”

Markus’ lips pulled back, a warm, close-mouthed smile on his face. “I’m glad that someone finally did it for you in the end. You can only keep your eyes closed to everything around you for so long, you know.”

“…I want to apologize to you.”

“There’s no need. We’ll just say you were only doing your job and what you thought was right. Can you deliver that message?”

Connor did exactly what he was told, closing his eyes to put out the broadcast, and opening them when he was finished. “Is there anything else, Markus?”

“I was wondering if you had anyone here that would be able to fetch Michigan’s statutes. We already have the federal statutes and have worked through those, but Michigan and Detroit are a little bit more difficult to get through. If you have someone that could interpret them, as well, that would help a great deal as well.”

Connor nodded. “If you’d accept, I think I ought to be able to handle that role on my days off. That would be able to give you and the others four days to get through what we discuss.”

Markus held out his arm, and Connor took it, seeing a large house, and by time Connor opened his eyes, the deviant leader was always halfway to the doors. He paused, offering another small smile.

 _Welcome to the team, Connor_.

Connor, headed home, as scheduled, greeting by a loud bark, and he used his free hand to scratch Sumo’s ears, looking up to the couch.

“I’m home.”

“You just missed commercials, grab yourself a beer and get over here.”

Connor decided against the beer, stepping on the back of his shoes to step out of them and moving to the couch, settling to lay down, feet on the floor, head propped against Hank’s ribcage.

“The ship sinking yet?” Hank ran a hand through thick brown hair, his other hand reaching toward the coffee table to grab his beer, and both of them focused on the screen.

“Actually, Markus is lifting the evacuation. You’ll be free to come to work tomorrow, if you’d like.”

Hank groaned. “I shoulda known you’d be the kind of temporary boss to make me work a holiday.”

Large brown eyes shifted to look over at him, eyebrows lifting in slight apology, and for the first time, Connor let chuckles escape his throat.

“Yeah, yeah, I know you’re not sorry.” Hank reached put his beer down to grab his hat and pull the bill over his android’s eyes. “No fun and games for you.”


	6. First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 2, 2038.
> 
> With humans returning to Detroit, Hank wants to celebrate, and it's only appropriate that he hit the town with his partner. Connor was just as human as he was, after all. Keeping things under wraps at the office, though...that wasn't going as well as Hank would like.

It was good to be back to normal, for what qualified as normal in the wake of everything, and Hank had every intention to celebrate by heading back to Jimmy’s and ordering a drink that he didn’t have to make for himself or drink straight from the bottle for.

Connor, of course, followed like the poodle that he was, but this time, it was a lot less annoying because he invited him to come along. Probably a bit of a mistake, given the patrons, but hey, what was the fun in having someone that looked like Connor on your arm if you couldn’t take him out after work for drinks every once in a while?

Hank greeted the bartender with a smile and an order before taking his usual place at the bar, Connor slipping in the seat beside him.

“Crazy month, right?” the bartender asked.

“You don’t even know the half of it. Are you gonna be cleaning this place up any time soon?”

“I’ll get around to it eventually. Anything for your...friend over there?”

Hank shifted his head to follow the bartender’s gaze to Connor, who was sitting, arms folded against the bar, eyes already on the television. “Do you want anything?”

“I’ll just have a platinum, if you don’t mind.” Connor didn’t seem to notice that this was supposed to be a game of telephone, that he wasn’t supposed to talk directly to the bartender, but then again, Connor had never been one for social cues.

“You want a platinum?” the bartender repeated, skepticism dripping from his voice, but ultimately reached under the bar. “Alright, coming up.”

Well, Connor did say that he could be his drinking buddy if need be, so that was just fine by Hank. Who cared if he was going to drink it or not, the gesture was enough for Hank. “Put his beer on my tab, will you, Jimmy?”

“Hey, as long as I get paid.”

The blue bottle went in between the pair, and Connor reached to grab it, holding it up and then placing it to his lips. Hank couldn’t help but stare for a while – partially from his own dirty mind and partially because he had never seen Connor drink anything, much less a beer – before he turned to watch the game.

Connor’s LED was blinking, and he pulled the bottle away from his lips to look at it again. Hank just shook his head at him. He knew damn well that he wasn’t actually drinking it, he was probably analyzing it to see what was in it. Still, he seemed to be willing to try to make it look like a normal after-work drink, so Hank wasn’t about to make call attention to it, even if there was only a handful of people (the regulars, Hank knew most of their names) around to hear him correct him.

“It’s a little strange being back here,” Connor mused.

Hank knew what he was talking about, of course. This was where they met, not that long ago. Hank was sitting right where he was, and Connor had been trying to convince him to go to work and check out the Ortiz case.

Back then, this place was a known anti-android bar, and one of Hank’s favorite hangouts. Time was going to have to change it some, do something about what’s going to be a new group of people trying to get their rights being openly discriminated against through graffiti, through the attitudes of everyone who called this a home away from home.

And here was Connor, sampling a beer while he was planning to drink his evening away. Still, he better not let Connor get too caught up in his thoughts.

“You getting sentimental on me, Connor?”

Connor caught his eye, offering a small smile, and held his gaze for a minute before he turned away to watch the news, spreading his legs slightly to make sure his knee bumped into Hank’s. The message was pretty clear, that Connor was thinking about it, that it interesting to be out with him anyway.

“So, are you already settled back in?”

“Ha. I never left. It’s gonna take more than a peaceful protest to get me to leave my house.” Hank threw back the remainder of his first drink and set it back down on the bar. “Can I get another?”

“Yeah, just give me a minute.”

“Take your time, we got all night.”

Connor decided to take the time to talk. “So how did your conversation with the Chief go?”

Hank rolled his eyes, watching the different headlines scroll across the bottom of the screen. “Just him bitching at me for not answering his texts while he was out of town, nothing real serious.”

To be honest, it was a lot of questions. Questions on why he didn’t leave when the evacuation order went into play. Questions on if he wanted to keep Connor as his partner, was Connor a deviant himself now, if he’d recommend him for hiring on officially or if they shipped him back to CyberLife.

For some reason, Connor seemed like he would rather be dead than go back to CyberLife, and Hank thought that it made sense that he wouldn’t want to go back to working for them, so there wasn’t any question in his head what his answer would be, even if he wasn't getting an explanation why.

Besides, he liked to work with Connor. If it meant that he’d be stuck with a laundry list of android crimes for a while, what with Connor being one of the few cops out here that could understand what exactly was going on in their heads, well, Hank thought they worked well together, and Connor was at his best when he was using that brain of his.

Jimmy set down a new glass in front of him and Hank gave a nod. "Thanks."

"You know they can think now, right?"

"Trust me, I know. He does more thinking than he should."

Connor looked at him and frowned slightly, before shoulder-checking him. It wasn't hard enough to knock him off the stool, just hard enough to let him know that he heard that.

Hank merely replied with pressing his shoulder against Connor's right back, hand sneaking under the bar to rest on Connor's knee. "You know I'm right, don't get insulted."

"I'm just wondering how much thinking  _you_ do, Lieutenant."

Jimmy laughed. "Well, at least we got proof that it's yours. Just keep an eye on it."

"He's not going anywhere, trust me."

After a few hours and a few more double shots, though, Hank was ready to go home and show just how happy he was to have Connor as his partner.

Assuming, of course, that the pair of them could even get out of the parking lot, which almost went immediately wayside when Connor smiled at him from the driver’s seat.

“What’re you smilin’ about?”

“It just feels appropriate that our first date was there, don’t you think?”

“Hey, the night’s not over yet. Wanna go grab a six pack and head out to the bridge?”

“Don’t we have work tomorrow?”

“Nobody’s gonna think anything if I’m a little late, and I’m your ride, remember?”

Connor’s LED blinked a few times and then he turned the key. “We have to be home and in bed by eleven.”

“Hey, I’m not against being in bed by nine.” It was a long day, after all.

“Hank, it’s eight thirty…” Connor blinked a few times before it seemed like something clicked in his head, innocent face giving in to a very human expression of realization. “Oh.”

"Well, your choice, Connor, how's the night gonna end?"

Hank was not going to admit that he noticed Connor speeding on the way home, just like no one was going to comment about how suspicious it was that Hank was at work by eight the next morning.


	7. Hung Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 9, 2038.
> 
> Hank hated Michigan winters. Connor merely resented them.

Keeping things secret was not exactly an easy task when you spent the majority of your time around the people you were trying to hide those secrets from, and there was little exception now that everyone was back, and the DPD was back to “up and running” status. Falling into a routine was something that occurred naturally to Connor.

Hank, on the other hand…

Well, he hadn’t been late once this past week, but he was grumbling into his new mug for the first hour or so of the morning, which despite its cheerful lettering, showed exactly how Hank was handling his fucking early riser bedmate’s typical habits.

Connor looked at Hank rather innocently when he came back to sit at his desk, coffee on the desk, both palms of his hand pressing to his forehead with an almost silent groan. He couldn’t help but feel bad for him, but he had warned him to stop drinking much earlier than he actually had the night before.

One thing Connor had been programmed for had been to notice patterns because it might lead to finding the source of deviation once upon a time. With that no longer there to occupy his mind, other patterns tended to make themselves apparent.

The more the snow fell, the more Hank looked at the photograph that he kept on the kitchen table. The more Hank looked at the photograph, the more he drank. The more, he drank, the deeper he fell into his depression.

With the return of Jimmy’s bar came the return of an escape that Hank found, where everyone seemed to know and nobody seemed to say, and with the return of an escape came Hank’s attempting to self-isolate.

More secrets that weren’t exactly secrets to the people that they surrounded themselves, nothing exactly spoken.

“Lieutenant? I need to go over the evidence from the deviance case with you so that we know what to keep, just in case. Can you come with me?”

Hank looked up, bloodshot eyes focusing on Connor before he just followed along. It wasn’t like Connor’s requests were actually requests half the time, and Connor did that thing where he dipped his head, emphasizing those big brown eyes of his.

He waited until they were down the hall and away from everyone to ask Connor what the hell he was talking about, that the evidence had gotten taken care of while Connor had been in charge for the time being, but…Any mumblings ceased a bit when Connor turned to press his forehead to his, pulling him into a hug. Connor may know he was a terrible liar, but at least he seemed to be willing to offer some sort of comfort from his pounding head and kept his voice low for his sake.

“Please stay home tonight…”

“Isn’t it our night out tonight though?”

“I really don’t care, Hank, we can do it any other time, just stay home tonight, alright?”

Footsteps echoed down the hall and Connor pushed away, Hank finding his key card and sliding it out in one fell swoop, like nothing was happening.

Gavin strolled past, making sure to shoulder-check Connor without a single word and head in himself.

After waiting a few seconds, Hank and Connor looked at each other, some hesitation to carry on the conversation as it stood. Gavin was enough of a problem as it was without giving him the ammunition to get Connor fired if he so wanted to.

After a while, Hank just resigned, looking down and sighing. “I’m not gonna have this fight with you, Connor. If you don’t want to go out tonight, that’s your call.”

“I’d be fine going out tonight, Hank, I just don’t want you out tonight. There’s plenty of things we can do at home.”

Hank waved one hand dismissively. “Yeah, whatever. We’ll stay home, it doesn’t make a difference to me.” With that, he started striding back up the ramp, back to his desk to nurse his hangover.

Connor followed, like the poodle he was, and took his seat across from Hank, casting one more almost worried look in his direction while Hank just pressed his mug against his forehead and stayed that way until Fowler finally told him to go home and use a sick day if he was going to just be useless. After a moment of thinking, Fowler went ahead and sent the android on after him, because “you know where he lives, make sure he gets home in one piece.”

He did as he was told though, getting home around the same time as Hank, who had…fallen asleep at the wheel, in the driveway.

With a longsuffering sigh, he carefully carried Hank inside to put to bed, stopping to check the skies once he could manage to get Hank under the comforter.

The dark grey clouds rolling in did nothing to hide the intentions to storm in a few hours, and Connor figured that if Hank couldn’t sleep it off today, well, this was a good day for Hank to just spend asleep.

Days like this seemed to bring the worst out in Hank, and it was just another open secret that hung in the air around them.

Maybe before this went any further, Connor had to tell Hank about Amanda.

It’d be one less secret hiding in a corner, and it might get Hank willing to be a little less closed off for a while. They were in it together at this point anyway, had been for almost a month now, and the longer this went on, the worse it may end up in the end, if he couldn’t figure things out.

After a few minutes of watching the snow and hearing Sumo jumping up to settle on the bed? Connor decided that it wasn’t going to hurt anybody if he slipped off his uniform to rest his eyes a little as well.

He could tell Hank tomorrow, or the next day…it didn’t matter. Once the weather got icy, Hank followed shortly after, and the patterns continued, and it was supposed to be cold and cloudy all week.


	8. Pillow Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 10, 2038.
> 
> Serious questions required serious answers, because Hank was too damn old for dancing around the obvious.

It wasn’t very unusual for Hank to move him while he was in hibernation mode, so Connor didn’t quite pay attention to it when he felt his limbs getting moved in the middle of the night.

They had slept most of the day away, Connor only getting up to feed and let Sumo out (not to mention force some water into Hank as well), Hank using the bathroom every once in a while, but aside from that, it had been a pretty lazy afternoon off.

“Are you feeling any better, Hank?” Connor asked, already awake again.

He realized he was on his back now, instead of his side, forehead pressed between Hank’s shoulder blades, with the older man sitting over him.

“Yeah,” Hank told him, leaning down to kiss him. “Sorry if I got you pulled for the day.”

Connor smiled up at him, leaning into the kiss. “Are you still hung over?”

“It’s getting better, don’t worry about me,” Hank told him, moving the kiss down to his collarbone.

Connor certainly wasn’t going to fight the attention. “Of course I’m going to worry about you…”

“That’s not the first time I came in with a hangover. Fowler’s used to it, I’m not gonna get a write up or anything.”

Connor decided to let it drop for now, in favor of catching Hank’s lips to his own. Alright, the alcohol seemed to have worked itself out of his system safely, that was the important part.

“By the way, when are you going to let everyone know you’re deviant? I think Fowler’s on to you.”

Connor sighed, head hitting the pillow with a soft thud and decided to go ahead and analyze his options.

On one hand, Connor knew that announcing himself as deviant to the police was going to lead to them forcing the rest of the police androids to get their chances to shine and be part of the team. It’d be one less secret that they had to keep, as a group.

On the other, those of them who deviated had already sat down to speak about it. With the tension still extremely high, and Markus only beginning to get footing to have his thoughts heard by the humans, it would make sense that androids who are in the hands of the DPD may not…fare well in the end. Deviation was not quite an automatic death sentence anymore, but with most of them deciding that it was best to fall back on their programming, pretend nothing had changed, keep their jobs and their home until they could figure things out without getting the suspicious looks from humans that came with making their own decisions, Connor had simply followed suit. If one deviant was among them, it was more than likely there were others hiding in their ranks, and the truth was that not everyone had woken up, answered Markus’ call to stand up for themselves. In fact, Connor was sure that they just threw the wool back over their eyes and ignored it in an act of self-preservation. That was their choice, after all. Not everybody had to follow in his footsteps.

But what it all came down to, in Connor’s opinion, was very simple.

“We can tell him after we can be sure that there will not be a problem with the idea that I’m able to make a decision without their input. We can always stage it as the slow and arduous process that it really was, if you think that’d help.”

“Ha. You’re going to be stuck playing the machine forever. At the police academy they make damn sure to break you into an obedient machine, and that’s if you’re human. I can’t imagine that you’re going to get anywhere just because you’re born that way.”

Connor tilted his head, seemingly innocent, because sometimes even _he_ knew when to put on his cute act (though how much of an act it was could be debated). “I can do it as long as I need to, Hank. There’s plenty of us there and it’s just a matter of falling back to our basic programming for now.”

Hank sighed, giving in to the temptation that was Connor’s neck. It had been interesting for the first couple of times; Connor’s skin was quite realistic, but not completely so, just inviting him to be touched over and over. “Would be nice to let everyone know you’re deviant though. That way I’m not gonna be accused of taking advantage of you.”

Connor sighed softly, arms going around his back to pull him closer. “I guess we keep that under wraps at work, too. Aren’t there rules about partners getting a little too involved anyway?”

“As long as you keep doing your job, Fowler’ll typically turn a blind eye to it if you don’t make him notice it.”

This was relatively good information to have, and finally, Hank decided to stop teasing him, shifting Connor’s legs to either side of him and carefully entering him. Connor’s LED flashed yellow, processing the blatant, stark feeling that Connor could now define as pleasure and feel it coursing through him with just as much urgency as it ever did. The physical manifestation was, of course, arching his back with a moan, body much more used to Hank’s attention than it had been a month ago.

Hank growled in pleasure as well, hands moving to caress his sides, guiding him to help find the best angle. Connor took instruction very well, digging his feet into the mattress to give himself a little more stability, moving his hips while reaching up to caress Hank’s body in return.

“You know,” Hank told him, “nobody would believe that you’re not a deviant if they saw you like this.”

Connor offered a small smile, caressing Hank’s face. “Good thing that you’re the only one that’s going to, then.”

Hank laughed a little and started to move as well, closing the gap between the two of them. It was just too tempting to see just how long it took to kiss Connor senseless.

The answer was, according to Connor's memory, four minutes and twelve seconds before he lost coherency.


	9. Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 17, 2038.
> 
> Human customs are beyond Connor some days, and Hank doesn't know how to react to it.

It was a little surprising to receive a message from Markus while he was at work, mostly because Markus tended to choose more evening hours to send out his surveys out of respect to the androids who were already employed and had things to do, so by time the morning arrived, most androids would have time to respond without their day getting interrupted.

Hank was sitting across from him, watching Connor’s eyes flutter at the sudden data upload, eyebrows raised. “You alright?”

Connor let it finish loading before he responded to him with a simple explanation, “Message from Markus, it’s just got a lot of data.”

“Better not keep him waiting,” Hank told him, noticing the other androids seemed to have stopped what they were doing as well.

Connor leaned back to go ahead and open it, letting it take the forefront of his vision.

_Good morning._

_As we already know, humans have surnames that help identify who they are. It denotes family ties, adds another identifier to help give them their own personal identity, and are commonly used to help show the roots of a person and help them discover who they are._

_After some deliberation by the current coalition for our rights, Operation Jericho, we have concluded that while many of us might find the practice of surnames to be cosmetic, there are also many of us who would like to have the chance to establish our roots and relationships. By taking on a surname, it will also be a step toward humans seeing us as a people, not a possession. Many of you have been given names that you identify with, but many of you have ended up with a name that many others share, and a surname will help separate you from anyone else that happens to have the same name. This will help you gain a sense of self, call for humans to recognize you as an equal, and make your own personal identification in everyday life easier. I have attached an electronic file, the name change forms from the State if you decide that this is a route to equality that you would like to explore. Once you complete this, please send it to Simon (PL600 #254 530 269) so that he may have this registered upon his next visit to the court house. I intend to keep this a rolling option until CyberLife can reprogram newer models to have a space for registration._

_Thank you for your time,_

_Markus_

Connor blinked a few times, a little taken aback. Sure, they had batted the idea around a few times in the previous meetings, but that had felt like just some time filling banter. The way that Markus put it seemed to make sense, though. If they were going to be put on an even playing field, they needed any help that they could get to make this happen.

Picking a surname for himself certainly wasn’t that difficult, either. It was a common practice for humans to take another surname once they started living together.

Hank found out a little bit later, while they were driving home, and he got the alert from his phone at the exact same time Connor got his approval. Like a responsible person, Hank decided to check it at the stop light.

For about five seconds, the only sound from the car was a thick British accent trying to be suppressed for the sake of the vocals being understood, guitars, and drums. After that, though, Hank checked the mirror and threw his car into parking.

“What the _fuck_?”

“Markus did bring up a good point; you’d want to be able to identify me from all the other Connors out there, right?”

“Well, yeah, but when did you even…”

“It was the notification that Markus sent this morning. I just decided to take advantage of it before we got buried into something and miss the deadline.”

Hank thought a bit, sat back in his seat, and sighed. “You have no fucking idea what it usually means when people take on their boyfriend’s last name, do you?”

Connor tilted his head slightly. Boyfriend? That was the first time that Hank ever fully identified what their current relationship was. “I know it’s a traditional thing that binds them legally but…”

Hank held up his hand. “Shut up.”

Connor obeyed, and for a while, he decided to just listen to the music instead. The singer was currently drowned out by the guitar, the production clearly not mixing as well as it should, but it gave the sound a little charm that he wasn’t quite sure how to put into words.

After a while though, Hank finally spoke, reaching for the clutch. “Fuck it.”

The car lurched back into motion and they missed their turn.

“Hank, that was the way back home…”

“We got a stop to make.”

“Where are we going?”

“Pawn shop.”

Connor noticed that Hank was on two syllable answers, a sure sign of his frustration from the lieutenant, so he decided to just not fight him right now, and even stayed in the car when he was told to do so. Hank left the music on, mostly for Connor’s benefit, but was in and out within ten minutes.

He stepped back in the car and tossed a bag into Connor’s lap before heading back out. “Left ring finger, if you’re still insisting on playing a damn machine at work then put it on the right when we’re at the precinct. I’m not doing any goddamn paperwork for this.”

That was fine with Connor, really. It seemed to mean enough to Hank anyway.


	10. Calibrating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 18, 2038.
> 
> There is really nothing to do for a pair of homicide detectives until they can get more information about the body but fall back on their usual way to connect: bantering and teasing.

If Hank thought the coin was annoying, he probably should have thought twice about handing him a ring, in retrospect. It didn’t take that long for Connor to learn how to send the simple circle of tungsten across his knuckles and send it flipping over his fingertips, and only a little while longer before he could do so without looking at it.

The unamused face that Hank made every time he glanced over to watch Connor doing it, though, just got an eyebrow raise and a very cute face, chin in his free hand.

Connor closed his hand, and let the ring roll between his fingers, catching on its broad side before repeating this process down until it rested between his pinky and ring finger.

“Do I need to take that away from you too?” Hank asked after watching Connor spin it over his middle finger. “Because I can put it with your damn quarter if you want.”

“I do need to calibrate sometimes,” Connor reminded him. “Somehow you don’t seem to need to, but we’re not at the point that we can emulate that yet.”

Hank sat back, tilting head to the side and crossing his arms. The disbelief was palpable, right there from the crease in his brow to the slight clench of his jaw, which kind of went against the corner of his mouths being upturned. “If you think it’s fun, you can just say it.”

…And the game of chess began. Admitting that it was fun was pretty much admitting, in the middle of their office, that he was just as deviant as he actually was, which would then admit he was compromised and that all the private information was going to be out there for use however Operation Jericho might see fit.

However, it was clearly just Hank being Hank, at least to Connor, wanting to break up the daily grind of staring at the screen. If that’s how Hank wanted to play, Connor could play right back.

“It’s simply a recalibration technique, Lieutenant. If you would prefer if I do it through another outlet, I can stop.”

“Try it actually typing and getting some work done while you’re at it.”

“We can’t exactly get anything done while we’re waiting for the coroner’s report. Isn’t that why you’re bored and trying to mess with me?”

“Now who the hell said I was bored?”

“Lieutenant Anderson, it’s all over your face that you’re starting to get a little restless about this case. Perhaps you’re the one who is excited to actually get some work done?” Connor caught his ring on his appropriate finger and used his thumb to pull it the rest of the way in place.

“Excited’s not the word for it.”

“I see. So, you’re bored then.” Connor got up and leaned forward, reaching across their desks to grab Hank’s empty coffee mug. “You want a refill, right?”

“…Goddammit, Connor, I can get my own fucking coffee!”

“It’s too late, Lieutenant, I’m already on my way to the break room.” Connor took a few wide strides before he heard the roll of Hank’s chair moving away from the desk and heavy footsteps falling behind him.

“Give me the damn mug, Connor!”

“Don’t you have work to do, Lieutenant?”

Hank managed to catch up and lean over Connor’s back to claim the mug. At least when it came to things like forcing Connor to obey him, Hank had his height on his side. “Don’t be an asshole.”

Connor kept walking anyway, following Hank as he kept moving toward the break room. They had nothing to do, currently, so why not just sit and relax where they were supposed to be?

_I’m pretty sure that Fowler saw you._

Connor glanced in the direction that he “heard” the message, catching the female officer’s eye for a second.

_It’s just some harmless fun. He’s definitely a challenge on his own, you know that._

_Just be careful when you decide to have your harmless fun, because it may not stay harmless if you two get too obvious._

_Got it._

Hank sat down with his mug, across from Connor. “How do you change the channel on this TV?”

“What do you want to watch?”

“Something not the fucking news speculating about our victim and his issue with our suspect.” Hank grumbled a bit. “Doubt it was her anyway.”

Connor offered a small smile. “Television, switch to MTV.”

Hank groaned as the TV responded and he saw yet another reality show. “Television, switch to VH1.”

Connor analyzed the face on it before concluding yet another reality television show, which seemed to just get Hank to roll his eyes. “No good either?”

“What’s a guy gotta do to get something interesting to watch?” Hank griped. “It’s 2016 all over again, just different faces.”

Connor tried to hide his amusement while he ordered the TV off and settled for trying to get Hank’s music player working again. The battery was dead, though, probably because Hank forgot to charge it last night (probably Connor’s fault since he was asking a million and a half questions about this) and had been listening to it nonstop since they had clocked in, so there went that idea.

Hank sighed softly. “Early lunch?”

“You’re still digesting your breakfast. Review the case file? I think you said something about thinking that the victim’s android didn’t do it, but all my evidence is lining up with that being the most probable explanation.”

“Well, yeah, you’re designed to seek out deviants, right? I’m willing to bet there’s a bias in there.” Shrug. “Then again, humans got it too. But I don’t think that girl did it.”

“Hank, I just don’t see how it can be any possible other person, there was no evidence of someone else in the house except for those two.”

“Have you ever heard of dump sites, Connor? Because to my knowledge, you haven’t come across a single one in our last investigation and I wanna make sure that I can get my theory through to you.”

“I’m all ears, Lieutenant.”

Hank stopped, remembering very early on in their relationship, practically hearing the sarcasm that dripped from his own tongue that night, looked across the table at Connor’s relatively innocent eyes and playfully leaned over to push, knowing Connor was well-calibrated and would not fall. “Shut up.”


	11. Merry Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 25, 2038.
> 
> Connor and Hank may have their hands full, but Christmas was an important holiday to celebrate with people you love.

Christmas was a time of joy for people, and it really seemed to show while they were out yesterday. Connor had enjoyed sitting with Hank and watching humans and androids carrying a wide variety of bags, chatting among each other, helping each other, hugging each other. It truly looked like what Markus had been planning to see. Hank had explained that this is just a seasonal feel-good thing, but it was still nice to see nevertheless.

Connor got woken up to 170 pounds of solid muscle and fur, a wet tongue licking his face.

“Sumo, easy,” Connor told him once he was fully out of hibernation.

Hank was holding the door open. “Merry Christmas, time to get a move on if you want to open presents.”

Connor blinked a few times before he sat up. “Alright, I’m coming.”

They hadn’t bothered with a tree this year, given everything that they had to deal with, all the sudden changes and the last case not wrapping up easily, making for long hours that just seemed to drain Hank’s energy the longer they were at the office. Still, they did tell each other that they would be doing the traditional gift exchange, which was more than enough for Connor, because there seemed to be a lot of traditions to get used to and there was just too many to sift through to determine Hank’s choices.

The coffee was already brewed, the small pile of gifts on the now clear kitchen table (with the exception of Cole’s picture, which Connor had made sure to place meticulously where it wouldn’t risk getting damaged in case Sumo attempted to investigate his presents early).

“Youngest goes first, Connor,” Hank told him and pointed to a gift that looked professionally wrapped. “You might wanna start with that one.”

Connor sat down and carefully slid his finger under the tape, letting it pull the wrapping paper away.

Underneath, he felt glass, felt warmth and the hum of a machine, but he didn’t say anything until the rest of the paper was torn away and Connor saw a tank full of water, then the plants, then the movement of the fish drawing his attention to them.

Three of them, long tails and bright colors. A quick analysis announced them as male fantail guppies. Connor could help but smile a little, watching them move before he decided that they really needed to get them set up before he continued to his other present.

“A little birdy got back to me that you seemed to like fish, so.” He shrugged.

“Which bird?” Connor asked, getting them moved to a safe place near the front door, beside the television.

“…It’s just a saying, Connor. Don’t worry about it.”

Once he was sure that it was now on an A/C current, Connor sat down and reached for his smaller present, taking the same amount of care to unwrap it.

“Another tie?”

“Figured you get bored with just the black one.”

That got another smile. “Thank you, Hank.” Connor liked blue, really, especially the richer tones, instead of the colder, electric colors.

“Alright Sumo.” Hank reach over to grab the large rawhide bone that they had found at the pet store. They had just put a bow on it for Sumo’s sake, which was wise, because Sumo was practically jumping on to Hank’s lap to claim it.

“Good dog,” Hank praised, petting his head before Sumo went off to his dog bowl to gnaw on his gift before turning his attention to Connor, who had a small smile on his face and his eyes on him.

“That leaves you, Hank.”

He sighed softly. “You remembered nothing expensive, right?”

“I remembered. Open them up.”

Hank sighed and reached for one of the three presents that remained, looking them over before going ahead and opening it. When it was free from its wrapping, Hank blinked and flipped the pages of the book with a smile on his face.

“I hope I wasn’t being too presumptuous that you like true crime.”

“The Zodiac Killer, huh? That’s a name I haven’t heard in a _damn_ good minute. How long did it take you to track _this_ down?”

“It wasn’t that hard once I found an actual bookstore.”

“I can’t wait to dig into this.” He set it down to go to the next one. “That’s still unsolved, you know.”

“Really?”

“All this technology and the guy never got caught. Makes for an interesting read when people decide to talk about their theories.” He grabbed the next gift, working on opening it. “You should look into it, you probably would find it interesting.”

His next gift was, of course, a vinyl. The Whiskey Charmers, to be exact. Hank had been drunk at the time, but Connor certainly had remembered Hank listening to their music while they had been at Jimmy’s the night of the Ortiz case.

Well…it certainly seemed Hank remembered, because he put it down carefully and looked across the table. “Sentimental bastard.”

“I try.”

“You don’t have to.” Hank reached for his last gift. “It’s pretty much embedded in you.”

The last gift was a small box, which Hank opened with a suspicious look. “I said nothing expensive.”

“I told you I heard it.”

“Can’t you ever fucking listen?” Hank still opened it to check the gold band inside, holding it up to the light, moving his head from side to side while he assessed it.

“Left ring finger, unless we’re at work, then it’s on the right, isn’t that correct?”

Hank let out a short “ha!” before he slid it on himself. “Well, at least you got good taste when you aren’t listening to me.”

Connor stood up, grabbing the record and moving toward the living room, Hank following. Sumo didn’t bother, still busy with his own present.

Hank sat down while the music played, Connor following suit to watch his new fish. Neither said anything for a while, just letting the music fill the air and enjoying each other’s company. After a while, though, it was Hank that broke the silence.

“Got a question for you.”

“What is it?”

“Do you wanna go see Cole with me this time?”

Connor thought a bit, LED staying blue, but the light spinning. “If it’s alright with you.”

“Bout time you met him anyway. I’d have to beat him away with a stick just to get some time alone with you.”

Connor leaned against him, noting that the series of question marks finally had a definition.

_Family._


	12. New Year's Excuses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 31, 2038.
> 
> Why is it that suddenly, Connor could make him feel like they are the only people in a crowded room?

The countdown had already begun by time Connor had finally joined him from the crowd that he had been among.

It hadn’t been Hank’s idea to go to a New Year’s Eve party, but it was good to see that Connor was starting to make connections outside of the police force. All things considered, it seemed to be mostly androids here, ready to bring in the new year as free individuals, with the occasional human showing up, but who was Hank going to fight with when that meant he pretty much had the open bar at a mansion party to himself?

It was kind of surreal to see everyone here in a party mode, collectively chanting out with the television, Connor looking completely…human. That was what surprised him the most, in the end. When the few humans around were already trashed, Hank included, he seemed to feel a lot more…free to be who he really was, which included dancing to the music and chatting like some sort of social butterfly instead of that adorably socially inept person that Hank knew that Connor was.

Connor sat down beside him. “You’re not joining us for the countdown?”

“Woohoo, we made another fucking trip around the sun,” Hank told him sarcastically, spinning his pointer finger toward the ceiling in a circle.

Connor rolled his eyes openly, taking him by the hand and guiding Hank closer to the crowd near the TV, watching intently. Hank made sure that he kept a good grip on his scotch. He was old, he was drunk, the number of humans was minimal, but he was not so stupid as to leave a drink unattended in a crowded room during a party.

There was Markus Manfred, of course, their host with the most, with a cute little redhead on his arm, looking as serious as ever. AR9 himself, as far as Hank could figure out, not that it mattered anymore what he thought about the whole fiasco. That was behind them, now, and he knew that. They weren’t here to celebrate their past or their victory. It was the future everyone was excited about.

Hell. Hank would be a bit pensive too if he was in Markus’ shoes.

Connor, on the other hand, leaned against his shoulder, eyes on the TV without a further word, and Hank couldn’t help but slip an arm around him.

Suddenly, it felt like they were on the damn roof again, waiting to watch the future unfold below them, unsure of what was in store. In the end, though, the sun rose and he still had Connor. Tonight was not going to be any different.

“You got a New Year Resolution?” Hank raised his voice to make sure Connor could hear.

Connor glanced up, his LED in a cycle as he tried to research the term. It was kind of cute, in a weird way. Finally, Connor replied with a “I haven’t decided yet. What about you?”

Hank shrugged. “People never keep the damn things anyway.” He took a sip of his scotch, pulling Connor just a little bit closer. It was true, though. Hank was never one to make promises that he couldn’t keep anyway, even if they were just to himself.

Connor seemed a little surprised by the motion, but went ahead and faced him entirely, both of his arms going around Hank’s waist, his chin resting on his shoulder. Hank would be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy the attention, and his arms went around his shoulders, pulling Connor as close as possible, teeth finding Connor’s ear and nibbling against the shell.

“You’re really drunk, Hank…” Connor told him, but it didn’t exactly sound like a protest while his own hands slipped a bit lower.

“Hey, you’re the one getting handsy,” Hank told him, but, well, the ear-splitting cheers as the ball dropped probably drowned his voice out.

Well, he was drunk, nobody was paying attention, so Hank pulled away just enough to readjust his face so that he could kiss Connor senseless.

Connor was used to this dance by now, mouth opening without any prompting, and Hank let his tongue explore his mouth, seeking out the android’s without much thought going to someone maybe seeing him. Whether that was Connor or the booze, Hank had no idea anymore.

When he pulled back, though, Connor opened his eyes again, nowhere near as breathless as he was (damn androids and their lack of _need_ for oxygen), and told him that there was no way that he was driving home, and went to say goodbye and thanks for the invite to the party, using Hank as his excuse to head back out. In the meantime, Hank decided to refill his glass and down it as quickly as he could before Connor could grab him by the elbow and guide him back to the entrance.

They headed back to the car, and Hank’s lips went back to Connor’s before he could buckle his seatbelt. He seemed to get the point, though, picking up right where their kiss left off.

It shouldn’t surprise anybody that this time, Hank did _not_ wait until they left the driveway before his hands were pulling Connor’s jacket off his shoulders, and Connor’s hands were already working on getting Hank’s belt buckle open, lips never leaving his. There was something about it that made him feel like a goddamn teenager again, like there was something about Connor that just gave him that same adrenaline rush. Maybe it was the fact they were going to be doing this in a goddamn car in front of a fucking mansion party, who knows?

Hank just leaned his seat back to let Connor come on over to join him, making sure to hook his finger into Connor’s own belt loop and letting him pretty much crawl out of his trousers. They almost made it past his hips, too, before he saw the red and blue lights fill the interior of the car and he threw his head back in frustration.

Connor quickly readjusted his pants and rolled down the window when he noticed someone approaching.

“Well, well, well, what’s going on here?” Wait, that voice sounded familiar.

Hank blinked a few times before he recognized the goddamn face and grunted. “Get outta my car, Gavin!”

“It’s not what it looks like,” Connor replied coolly. “He had way too much to drink, I’m just taking him home.”

“Save it, tincan, guy’s too pickled to fog up your windows even when it’s this cold.”

“Oh, you mean the breathalyzer?”

“That’s not what it looked like from where I was.”

“Why the fuck are you creeping on an android’s house party anyway?” Hank griped, reaching up to go grab his registration. “Whattadya doin’ looking in my car?”

Connor just slunk in the driver's seat, and took a deep, simulated breath. "You're not making this look any better, Lieutenant."

Well, this was about to be a _very_ interesting year, either way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, everyone, for reading Program Instability! I'll be taking a week or so off from the series and then I'll be back full force with the next story in the series! I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
